


And So It Goes

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-24
Updated: 2006-03-24
Packaged: 2019-02-02 05:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Hammond, Jack and Maybourne think about retiring.  Daniel thinks about bananas.





	And So It Goes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Language, sex--all the usual suspects.  


* * *

Part 1: Spank the Spacemonkey

The minute I get home I make a beeline for the bedroom. I stop short as soon as I step through the bedroom door. Daniel's lying on the bed, stark naked, hands behind his head, one leg bent and hey--look what's popped up to greet me. 

"Hey, Jack," Daniel says, smiling at my astonished face.

"Hey, yourself," I say, unceremoniously dumping my bags to the floor. I point at his dick. "That for me?"

"Just a little welcome home present," he says modestly. I start ripping at my clothes, frustrated when they don't just disappear like they do in any decent fantasy. 

"I suppose I should be the caring and supportive partner and ask about your trip and how things went etcetera," Daniel says with a thoughtful frown.

"And I should be asking how you've been and what's new at the SGC," I say without missing a beat in my quest to get naked fast.

"Or we could get the sex out of the way and talk later," Daniel suggests pragmatically. 

I leap on the bed, bouncing Daniel a good couple of inches off the mattress and making him laugh. I throw myself on top of him and claim his mouth in a near savage kiss that quickly turns his chuckles into moans. 

"You're such a slut," I growl as I bite my way down to his chest.

"Yeah sure you betcha," he breathes. I clamp onto a nipple and he surges up, thrusting his cock against me.

"Need a little help there?"

"Full service, please," Daniel pleads huskily. "The self-serve thing was starting to get old."

"Self...?" Damn it, he knows what that does to me. "Spanking thespace monkey?"

"No spanking," he says irritably.

"Go ahead," I say sitting back on my heels.

"What?" His eyes widen in outrage as I make an illustrative gesture. "No."

"Ah, come on, Daniel. Make with the spank."

"I'm not masturbating for you," Daniel insists. 

"I assure you--you won't go blind."

"That has nothing to do with it," Daniel argues. "You've been gone for ten days. And it's actually been two weeks since either one of us got fucked. You're home now and you're doing half the work."

"You can either spank the space monkey...or I get to spank the Spacemonkey."

"You wouldn't!" Daniel says, outraged. 

I have no burning desire to spank Daniel's ass. Licking, nibbling, stroking, fondling, fucking--you bet. And if a spanking opportunity arose, I'd be tempted to give it a shot. But generally speaking, smacking that peachy little behind is not an idea that does much for me. However, making Daniel **think** I want to spank him--that's more fun than a barrel of space monkeys.

"Given half a chance...," I taunt.

"No way." 

Same old song, but his tune changes noticeably when I take him in my mouth. In fact, it goes up at least half an octave. I push two slick fingers in and rub hard. Daniel shudders so hard the entire bed shakes. I slowly slide my mouth off of his dick while still punishing his prostate. 

"Damn it, Jack!" Daniel growls when he realizes I have no immediate plans to go back down on him. "Touch me!"

"Already am," I say smugly, flexing my fingers inside him.

"Fuuuuuuuck," Daniel groans. He clutches at the sheets, determined not to give in.

"Let me watch you," I croon, nuzzling down and barely--just barely--drawing my tongue across his balls.

"Goddamn duck-fucking prick tease," Daniel snaps. "Suck me, fuck me or go away!" 

Daniel tries to sit up which only pushes my fingers deeper inside. He groans again and starts rocking himself against my hand. I lift my head and kiss him, letting my tongue do to his mouth what my fingers are doing to his ass. 

"Jack, pleeeeeeease."

"Just one minute," I beg. So I get off on watching him. So what? In the realm of kink it's pretty damn tame. "Let me watch you. I love to watch you. You're so beautiful, so damn hot...." 

Geez, an attack of horny sap. I hate when that happens. 

"Jack." Daniel moans my name deep in his throat.

Except when horny sap works.

Daniel wraps one long fingered hand around his cock and pumps for all he's worth while still fucking himself on my fingers.

"Yes!" I growl.

"You're just lucky I'm so easy," he growls back. Got that straight. I tip him back onto his back and spread his legs. The hand on his cock never falters as I slide into him. His face contorts as one deep stroke has him right on the edge.

"Slow down," I admonish.

"No. Yes. Now," Daniel gasps. "Gotta **now**."

Well, when ya gotta, ya gotta. I plunge into him fast and hard. Seconds later Daniel's legs and ass tighten around me and he howls.

Now **that's** a welcome home.

* * *

"So...how was the trip?" Daniel asks sleepily.

"Ten days with Major Davis and assorted Davisoids," I grumble, turning off the lights and crawling back into bed after a quick clean up.

"Paul's a nice guy," Daniel chides.

"He is...for a bureaucrat," I agree. "Ten days, Daniel. Ten days of ass-kissing, boot-licking, and other assorted forms of diplomacy. My face hurts from all that insincere smiling." 

Daniel makes some vaguely comforting noises as he turns toward me and snuggles close.

"It's a shame Paul doesn't see Sam in a more...personal way,"Daniel observes. I snort in disbelief. "What? Come on--they'd be good together. They're both smart, dedicated, attractive...and Sam spent enough time at the Pentagon to understand the political games that Paul has to put up with."

"Davis and Carter?" I ask skeptically.

"I'm not saying it would be a forever and always kind of thing, but I think they could be good for each other."

"Why are you so concerned with fixing Carter up?"

"I'm not really. **You're** the one who said Sam needed to get laid," Daniel accuses. 

"Yeah, but I hadn't gone so far as to pick a victim." I mean--I love Carter but she is hard on male of the species. Any species. "I thought you liked Davis?"

"I do," Daniel insists, punching me lightly on the arm. "That's why I think it would be nice if he and Sam got together."

"Thereby giving him a life expectancy of nanoseconds."

"Jack," Daniel protests.

"Hey! Ambassador Shiny-Shoes didn't even make it to the first date, let alone first base." 

"How do you know?" Daniel asks.

"Because Carter still looks like she needs to get laid!"

"Sex is not the answer to every problem," Daniel argues, veering away from the point.

"Maybe not but a good fuck never hurt."

Daniel just sighs. He can't argue because he knows that as well as I do. 

"And Carter could use a good fuck," I add, returning to the salient point. Er...no, I guess Davis was the point...at some point. Daniel is silent, lips pursed as he tries to think of a suitable rebuttal to my accurate if crude summary. "You can't deny it, Daniel."

"Sam's had some bad luck," he concedes reluctantly. "And speaking of bad luck--where does that leave you?"

"Me?"

"The objects of my affection have a terrifying tendency to become Goa'uld," Daniel points out.

"Been there, done that," I say. Hathor, the red-headed gutter goddess, was bound and determined to get a snake in me one way or another. "Got snaked and lived to tell the tale. The jinx is no longer in effect."

"That was before we got together," Daniel argues.

"It still counts." Maybe if I say it enough it'll even be true. "What about Teal'c?" 

Daniel looks up at me, perplexed.

"I don't think he's Paul's type," Daniel says seriously. This time I smack him.

"Not Davis, ya loon. Carter."

"Oh, I think that's a very bad idea."

* * *

I'm strolling along C corridor, minding my own business, when I hear it. 

"A nine inch banana?" 

It's Daniel's voice sounding so incredulous. I'm **not** going to ask. I know he can't be talking about me because I don't have a nine inch banana. Not even if I round up. 

"Are you supposed to measure every time?" Daniel's voice continues.

"Well, I suppose once you've measured accurately once or twice you could just eyeball it after that." 

And that's Carter's voice. And now I **have** to ask. I back up a few feet to the door of Carter's lab and look in. My kids have their heads together staring at a pamphlet on the lab table.

"Bananas?" I ask sharply, startling them both. Daniel looks up with glint of mischief in his eye.

"Sorry, you weren't supposed to hear that, Jack," he says sweetly. "Just remember--it's not the size that matters, it's how plump and full of goodness it is." 

Just for the record--Daniel doesn't have a nine inch banana either.

"And according to this, you only need half that anyway," Carter chimes in.

I stare at her--hard. Carter clues in a lot faster than she used to, but I can't tell if she knows what we're talking about here. Then again, **I'm** not sure what we're talking about here. 

"Half?" I ask dubiously.

"That really doesn't sound right, does it?" Daniel says.

"Well, that's what they claim," Carter says sounding a little doubtful herself. Oh, please. I'd bet a month's salary Carter hasn't been anywhere near a nine inch banana either. Not lately.

"I don't think I've ever seen one that was nine inches," Daniel says skeptically.

"Well, with any luck you will someday," Carter says consolingly. 

"Nuts," I say. Both of them. 

"Bananas, sir," Carter corrects.

"Both." Daniel looks at both of us, bewildered by our expressions. "What? If you're going to have a banana you need the nuts, too."

"I'm too old for this." I think the kids need a mission. I **know** I do.

"I'm too young," Carter says.

"Nuts," Daniel mutters.

* * *

"Good morning, O'Neill. You are sounding especially cantankerous today," Teal'c says by way of greeting.

"Did Daniel get you the pissy version of the word of the day calendar?" I ask sharply. In the not nearly distant enough past we've had petulant, irascible, vociferous and now cantankerous.

"That is not from my calendar," Teal'c informs me. "That is my word of the day from Daniel Jackson."

I should've known.

"So what words did you get last week?" While I was in D.C. and supposedly making hearts--at least one heart--grow fonder with my absence.

"Yearn. Thwart. Concupiscence. Senescence. Onomatopoeia," Teal'c recites.

Onomatopoeia? What the fuck?

"Daniel Jackson copes much better with your absence than you with his," Teal'c observes. 

Maybe. But he's gonna pay for "senescence".

"What about this morning?" I ask curiously. This being the morning after I got home and showed Daniel what a guy with a less than nine inch banana can do. "What word did Daniel give you today?"

"Phalanges."

Huh?

* * *

"Jack, I love you to the point of insanity--obviously--but I'm not dressing up as Donald Duck for this costume party."

Spoil sport. If I have to go to this allegedly morale boosting party the least Daniel could do is make sure I enjoy it. Even if it is at his own expense.

And really--why anyone past the age of puberty would want to get dressed up in a costume is beyond me. Especially without the lure of a bag full of goodies at the end of the night. The last time I voluntarily dressed in a costume was shortly after I got my wings. I have no memory of it but I know it happened. I've seen the pictures. 

"Daffy?" I suggest.

"I'll daffy you," Daniel mutters.

"Which is precisely what O'Neill had in mind," Teal'c says.

"Just think, Daniel," Carter says encouragingly. "You can shake your tail feathers all over town." 

Er...what? Daniel perks up and looks smugly at me.

"No way," I decide.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not a reason. And what about you?" 

"That's different." All right--so I might have said I'd like to go as Superman. Hey--I've saved the planet as many times as he did. I also happen to be impervious to kryptonite. And Daniel really likes the idea of tights. 

"No, it's not. What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," Daniel says triumphantly. 

Hey! No one's getting a gander at Daniel's tail feathers but me.

"Daniel should go as a historical figure," Carter says, offering her completely unsolicited opinion. "Some handsome, tragic, romantic...." Her voice trails off with a sigh and an assessing look at me.

"You could do so much better, you know that?" she tells Daniel, who's far too smug for my own good. 

"Curious George?" I suggest, ignoring Carter's insult. For now. "No--better yet--Gordo!"

"The first monkey in space?" Carter asks, puzzled.

"You **don't** get to spank the Space Monkey!" Daniel shouts. Then he breaks out in a full body blush as he realizes what he said. He's supposed to be the smart one in this relationship but sometimes his mouth works faster than his brain.

And the damn ventilation system must be on the blink again. I couldn't be feeling a little...warm because I'm imagining that I do, in fact, get to spank the Space Monkey.

"Sir, at this point I'd like to enact the 'don't ask, don't tell' portion of our professional relationship," Carter demands.

"Agreed," I said quickly.

"What should I dress up as?" she asks, desperate to change the topic.

"Black widow," I blurt out. 

Crap. I really didn't mean to say that. Carter punches me in the shoulder just a split second before Daniel whacks me on the other one.

"Joan of Arc," Daniel suggests, glaring at me. 

"Yeah, she didn't have much luck with men either," I agree. This time I duck before they can smack me. The two of them just huddle together, giving me a double dose of evil blue eyes. "Hey, I got it. Carter can go as Hathor. That'll give her an excuse to hang all over Daniel."

"I don't hang all over Daniel," Carter protests.

"Do."

"Do not."

"Well, you **think** it," I accuse.

"Well, duh," Carter agrees after a pointed look at Daniel.

"Would someone please tell me just when it was I became the designated boy toy?" Daniel asks with disgust.

"Puberty," Carter says with absolute confidence. Have to agree with her on that one.

"Do the Goa'uld go through puberty?" I ask. "Because I really have a hard time seeing a couple of snakes snuggled up in the back of Dad's teltac copping a feel."

"Copping a feel?" Teal'c asks.

"Groping. Feeling up." 

Teal'c just continues to stare at me with a complete lack of comprehension. You'd think with all the words Daniel has taught Teal'c he'd give him some useful ones.

"Foreplay," Daniel interjects.

"Ah." Teal'c thinks for a moment. "I do not believe the Goa'uld engage in foreplay."

"No? What about spank...."

"Jack!"

"What? It's research."

"Research my ass!" Daniel snaps. 

Well, now that you mention it.... 

"Don't!" he snarls. 

Testy, testy. I know someone who needs a nap. Or a mission. Or a howling orgasm. Since we're at work it's going to have to be a mission. Damn.

* * *

"That all, sir?" 

God, I hope so. I hate administrative meetings at the best of times and coming into this one with "nine inch banana" and "spank the monkey" stuck in my mind didn't help. What's really driving me nuts is that I've got that song "Shock the Monkey" playing an endless loop in my head. But my brain keeps substituting spank for shock.

"Officially," Hammond says easily. "There's something else I'd like to discuss, if you have a few minutes." 

I sit back and gesture for him to continue. Hey, when a general asks if you have a few minutes--you have a few minutes. 

"I've been thinking about retirement, Jack."

"Sir?"

"Don't worry," Hammond says with a chuckle. "Not the forced kind this time." 

Thank God--'cause I still get the heebie jeebies every time I think about owing Maybourne anything. 

"But the time is coming and there are certain things I'd like to take care of before I leave. Things I'd like to have in place before someone else takes over, if you know what I mean."

"Seems prudent," I agree. Although that's not going to stop a Bauer, I'm afraid.

"Jack," Hammond says slowly, eyeing me carefully. "I'm sorry, but I just don't see any way that you'll be taking over this command. Not as things stand at this point."

That? He's worried about **that**?

"It's fine, sir. I didn't expect to," I tell him honestly. "I'm not unaware of my reputation. And to be honest, I don't really think I'd be the best choice even if it were possible. As you well know, I have little patience for pencil pushers and political appointees."

"I don't disagree with your assessment on the whole," Hammond says. Yeah, but he doesn't actually tell the pencil pushers where to put their writing utensils along with the exact flight path needed to achieve their target. "Your position as commander of SG-1 should be secure."

"I may just retire when you do," I announce. 

Hammond gives me a surprised look. Kind of surprised myself there. 

"Realistically, I'm not going to be physically able to lead a field team for much longer. And if you repeat that to anyone I'll deny it. But if my knee blows one more time that'll be it. Might be wise to leave before I'm forced to fly a desk."

"That's entirely up to you, Jack," Hammond says understandingly. 

Me... and a certain apparently unspankable archaeologist.

"I'd like to see that Major Carter is properly situated," Hammond continues. This is an idea I can totally get behind. "But I have to be sure there aren't any 'improprieties' that might come to light and undermine her position."

Improprieties? Carter? Jacob, maybe--but not **my** Carter.

"I'm not sure I understand, sir." 

Actually, I'm completely sure I don't understand.

"In a facility like this rumors run rampant," the general says matter-of-factly. "I try not to pay much attention to them, but in these circumstances I need to be sure there's no foundation to the rumors. Nothing that can be used to dispute Major Carter's achievements." 

Someone call Daniel. I need a translation.

"Still not following you, sir."

Hammond sighs and looks at me, asking me to get it without him spelling it out. And suddenly I do. 

"General, if you're referring to...uh, you know, well, don'tworry." 

Damn Pamela Lee-Anise and her brain sucking machine. Carter and I will be answering for that for the rest of our lives.

"It was never exactly what it seemed, sir. Truth is--Carter and I played a few head games of our own. Twisted things around till the machine didn't know what we were thinking. **Not** ," I emphasize, "that it knew to begin with."

"You and Major Carter constructed your responses so as to manipulate the machine and clear yourselves?"

"Um...yeah." It sounds so evil when he says it.

"That could have been dangerous," Hammond observes.

"No, sir," I hasten to reassure him. "Once we figured out what the machine was reading as 'Zatarc' we knew we weren't. Zatarcs that is. You know I wouldn't risk compromising the facility."

"So there was never any relationship between you and Major Carter?"

"No, sir. Think the world of Carter, just not that way. And hey, like I want to have to answer to Jacob," I point out. 

Hammond chuckles, but his expression quickly grows serious again. The silence drags out to an uncomfortable length. 

Crap. 

If Hammond's heard rumors about me and Carter then chances are he's heard the rumors about me and Daniel. Quite frankly I wish Daniel and I were doing it as often and as creatively as rumor would have it. Although I don't see the point of doing it in a wormhole. Aside from the frostbite concern, I'm thinking it'd be a rough landing. 

Of course, there are also rumors about me and Doc--ha! As if. And rumors about me and Teal'c--nice guy but I don't do the symbiote thing. As to the ones about me and Maybourne--we are **so** not going there.

"Well, rumors are just rumors," Hammond finally says. 

"Absolutely, sir."

"I intend to give Teal'c a choice: stay with SG-1 or return to join with his fellow Jaffa," Hammond continues. "I'm hoping he'll choose SG-1, but I know he wants to contribute to the Jaffa rebellion. And as to Dr. Jackson...honestly, Jack, we need him here. In whatever capacity he's willing to stay. I don't suppose you have any idea what Dr. Jackson might do?"

Me? Do **I** know what Daniel will do? 

I know the jut of Daniel's jaw when he's determined. I know that when he's embarrassed the flush colors his chest more than his face. I know how his skin actually smells like warm sunlight when he's been working outside. I know the sparkle in his eye on the rare occasions when he laughs and I know the sounds he makes when the sex is good. 

The one thing I don't know is what Daniel will do in any given situation. Other than the fact that he will, of course, do exactly what I don't expect and wouldn't want him to do if I did know.

"Daniel will do whatever he wants to do. Just like always."

"I have no doubt of that," George agrees. 

"So, sir--a mission?"

"Now?" he asks, confused.

"Now would be good. The kids are getting bored. And you know that means trouble."

"I think the 'kids' are perfectly capable of finding ways to keep busy," George says indulgently.

"It's **how** they keep busy that worries me," I tell him. "I was in Carter's lab earlier this morning and she had that machine out. You know--the one that scrambles the 'Bury your Dead' game on my computer and makes the gate spin like a roulette wheel?"

"Major Carter is under strict orders not to use that machine without clearing it with me first."

"And I'm sure she'll follow those orders, sir. If she doesn't get too distracted by the allure of bringing the SGC to the brink of total devastation." 

Hey, it's been months since the auto-destruct was triggered. Carter's got to be going through withdrawal by now.

"You've been a bad influence on her, Jack," Hammond says as he pulls a stack of preliminary mission reports toward him.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll see what I can do mission wise," he says, flipping rapidly through the files. "In the meantime, I'm holding you responsible for anything Major Carter...or Dr. Jackson might get into."

Now I ask you--is that fair?

* * *

Part 2: Queen for a Day

Fuck

A

Duck.

Good move, O'Neill. You just **had** to ask for a mission, didn't ya? Couldn't stay on Earth where it was safe...in an 'it's only the NID/IRS/Microsoft who are out to get me' way. 

Oh, no. No, I had to ask for a mission. **This** mission specifically. An empty room with three curtained...rooms? Corridors? Alcoves? I figure the worst that can happen is that we get stuck playing some alien version of "The Price is Right." 

I should know better by now.

"Carter--dial us out of here!" I shout down the corridor. Seconds later Carter appears at the end of the hall. 

"Stop right there!" Carter yells at me. 

Not on your life, toots.

"Damn it, Carter. It's me," I snap. 

Carter's too startled to physically block me from entering this planet's gate room. I briefly consider reprimanding her for the lapse, and then decide to be grateful she didn't just shoot me. While I'm sure there are those who would sympathize with and even applaud such an action, I don't happen to be one of them.

I push on into the gate room, huffing and puffing as I drag my captive along with me. Carter's right behind me, jaw still scraping the floor. Teal'c immediately points his staff weapon at me. Daniel finishes transmitting the iris code, turns...and his eyes bug out.

"Release O'Neill immediately," Teal'c commands.

"That would be a little hard to do 'cause that ain't O'Neill," I say irritably, waving my P90 at the person I'm dragging along. Someone who looks like O'Neill. Me. 

Crap. 

"Oh, for crying out loud, people! We do **not** have time for this. I jammed the door on Hathor's Jaffa but it won't hold them for long."

"Do not be deceived," my captive says, struggling ineffectually against my grip. "He...she is lying to you."

Carter's expression grows more puzzled and she lowers her gun just slightly. 

"Sir?"

"Yes," I growl. I look at the other three members of SG-1, who've all unconsciously drawn closer together. Okay, so it's easy to see how they'd be confused...given that I look like Hathor and Hathor looks like me, but I don't have time for long explanations. 

"Machello--body switch machine--ta da!" 

"Jack, if that really is you...?" Daniel's brow furrows in concentration for a moment. He opens his mouth to continue. 

"Ah! Daniel, so help me God, if you start going on about how fascinating this is, I'm gonna hurt you."

"It is O'Neill," Teal'c announces. 

Yes! Thank you. 

Convinced, Carter nods and finally lowers her gun fully. Teal'c turns his head slightly at the noise coming from behind me. Yeah, big guy--the Jaffa are coming. 

"We must leave now."

"This is what I've been saying," I point out with exasperation.

"Daniel, you'd better go first," Carter suggests. "We don't want anyone accidentally shooting the, uh, colonel." 

Daniel just nods, still looking dazed, and jogs through the event horizon. I give him a second to get through before following, still dragging Hathor--in my body--by the scruff of the neck. 

And you know--I really **could** stand to lose a couple of pounds.

* * *

"What in the Sam Hill happened?" Hammond asks, his voice almost cracking with disbelief as he joins SG-1 in the infirmary. 

"P7Y turned out to be another cache of Machello's machines," Carter explains. "Unfortunately, Hathor had already found it. She and Colonel O'Neill...well, they got switched by the same kind ofmachine that switched Daniel and Machello."

"I thought Hathor was dead," Hammond says, his patience obviously wearing thin. I mean we're talking nanometers here.

"As did we," Teal'c agrees. 

"Then...how?"

"Just a guess, General, but I'm thinking sarcophagus," I say. Damn snakes just **will** not stay dead.

"It is possible, sir," Carter agrees. "If one of Hathor's Jaffa got to her quick enough...."

"Are we sure this is Colonel O'Neill?" Hammond interrupts, jerking his thumb at me. 

"Yes, sir, it's Jack," Daniel says, blushing. 

Ha. Daniel wanted more proof of my identity so I gave it to him. Hey, if he didn't want to be reminded about the Popsicle incident he shouldn't have asked. 

"And I'm pretty certain that the 'personality' in Jack's body is Hathor."

"What about the actual Goa'uld?" Hammond persists. Hey, don't look at me. I don't hear any voices in my head. 

"I'll let you know, sir, just as soon as I've had a chance to examine the...colonel," Fraiser says.

"Proceed then," Hammond orders. "Major, Dr. Jackson, Teal'c--please join me in the briefing room."

"Catch ya later," Daniel says quietly as he trails after the others. 

"Here you go, sir," Doc Fraiser says, tossing one of those skimpy hospital gowns on the gurney.

"Oooooh, no!" I protest. "I am not getting naked. Not in this body."

"Yes, you are," Fraiser says firmly. "I need to perform a thorough examination."

"No."

"Two words, Colonel." Doc gives me her most intimidating stare. "Pap smear."

"You wouldn't!" 

She wouldn't. Nah, no way. Would she? Oh, she **so** would. 

"You...you...."

"Napoleonic power monger?" Fraiser asks archly. 

"I was thinking Marquis de Sade."

"Hardly. Seeing you naked would normally fall under the heading of masochism."

* * *

"This sucks," I say flatly as I pace around Daniel's apartment. 

Hammond agreed to let me leave the base--with, apparently, snake in head--as long as I stayed with Daniel. Yes, that's right--Hathor has snaked me again. The machine transferred the snake's (Hathor) mind into my body, and mine into hers. The actual physical snake itself is still in her body. Which is now my body. 

And don't even ask me where the host is.

"Um...which part of 'this'?" Daniel asks. I scowl at him and he shudders.

"That's just creepy," he mutters.

"All of it, actually," I say dejectedly. "But what really frosts my cookies is the fact that Hammond actually ordered us to spend the night together and it's wasted."

"Wasted?" Daniel asks.

"You saying you **want** to get jiggy with this?" I stare down at my... Hathor's body with a flabbergasted look.

"Oh. Oh...gee, thanks, Jack," Daniel groans. "It could take years of therapy to get that image out of my mind."

"You?" I snap in disbelief. "At least you've had sex with a woman before."

"Yes. With **that** woman," Daniel says, pointing his finger at me.

"I see how that could be a problem," I agree after a moment of thought. "Still, I've never had sex **as** a woman." Daniel's look suddenly grows thoughtful. "Don't, Daniel. I swear--I will hurt you."

"Look at the positive side, Jack. This is a perfect opportunity to get in touch with your feminine side."

"Daniel, I don't have a feminine side." Of this I'm completely sure.

"You do now," Daniel points out logically. "An inside and an outside." 

I stand there, hands on hips, and sneer at the love of my life. And I don't know who designed these fatigues but it sure as hell wasn't a woman. They just aren't tailored for a woman's body. And they make my ass look big. Hathor's ass. Whatever.

"Admit it--you've always wanted to be the queen of sex, drugs and rock and roll," Daniel teases. 

"Queen?"

"And at the very least, you've got a great costume for the party."

"You're enjoying this," I accuse.

"I'm trying to not freak," Daniel admits. "Remember that little discussion we had about my partners becoming Goa'uld?"

"It's temporary," I insist. "And honestly, the snake is the least of my concerns right now. It's staying quiet. But...I got boobs here, Daniel. What the hell am I supposed to do with boobs?" 

"A bra would be a good start," Daniel says with a raised eyebrow.

"Really?" I ask, looking down at myself.

"Well, they wouldn't...bounce so much." Daniel illustrates with his hand.

"I can't. I can't wear a bra, Daniel. It's just too weird."

Not the weirdest though. No, my humongous, galactic-sized freak out occurred when I had to go to the little boy's room. Girl's room. Whatever. So there I was. Taking a leak. Without a dick. Jeezus--talk about needing years of therapy. 

The experience was so profoundly disturbing that I immediately vowed to refrain from using the toilet again until I get my own body back. Daniel says I'll fuck up my kidneys holding it in like that. So? They're not **my** kidneys.

"Maybe we should just call it a night?" Daniel suggests. 

Best idea I've heard all day. And I'm willing to acknowledge my newly acquired feminine side enough to admit I could really use some quality snuggle time. 

"Oh, no," Daniel says, reading my expression and shaking his head. "No way."

"What do you mean?" 

"Jack, please. I know it's you but I look and all I see is Hathor. I really can't do this." Daniel looks at me with a mixture of panic and apology. "I'm just going to sleep on the couch."

"Daniel...."

"Please, Jack."

Ah, crap.

* * *

"Jack--you up?"

"Fuck," I mumble.

"So that would be a yes."

"Fuck off."

"Right. Breakfast will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

I pull my head out from under the pillow just in time to see Daniel's backside moving away. And groan. There are all sorts of fun and filthy ways I'd like to see Daniel's backside moving...but I got nothing to tempt him with. 

I snarl and grumble as I make my way to the bathroom. Couldn't sleep worth crap last night. Damn boobs kept getting in the way. I glance at the mirror on the way to the shower and stop dead. 

Christ. Look what the cat drug in. No wonder Hathor's a little heavy handed with the make up. Without it she looks like a worn out hooker. And bedhead? Yeesh. I plunge straight into the shower to avoid having to look at her. Me. Whatever. 

Turns out the shower's even worse. I'm trying, really trying, to simply and efficiently wash up. Sliding my hands across the slick skin of her breasts, down the slight curve of her belly.... And it hits me. I'm feeling her up. But...I'm feeling **me** up! Oh my god, it's just too disgusting for words. 

"Daniellllllllllllllllllll!" I hop out of the shower and towel off ferociously. 

"What?" he hollers back.

"When is that damn machine getting here?"

"You heard Hammond. They have to transport it from Area 51 but it should be here today." Daniel appears in the doorway as I start dressing. His face scrunches up like he just smelled something bad.

"You're wearing briefs?" he asks.

"Daniel," I say sharply. "You're a guy. I'm a guy. We're both gay. There's nothing in this apartment even remotely resembling women's underwear."

"Good point," Daniel mumbles. "But... doesn't it feel weird?"

"No, Daniel," I snap, my patience at an end. "The briefs do not feel weird. It's what's **in** the briefs that feels weird. Or rather--what's **not** in the briefs!"

I pull on one of Daniel's t-shirts, which I'm swimming in, and the pants I wore home yesterday. My own jeans, or Daniel's, would be way too long. I turn to face Daniel...and he does the scrunchy face again.

"What?" 

"You might run a comb through that," he says, gesturing at my head. I stomp over to the mirror. Great. Wet bedhead. Big time. I yank and tear at the tangled mess but I'm getting nowhere. I'm strongly tempted to grab my razor and go for the extreme solution. Would serve the bitch right.

"No, Jack." 

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Put a hat on...." Daniel turns and walks away muttering, "Or a paper bag."

"Very helpful, Dr. Jackson," I mutter right back. "Not!" 

I'm still eyeing the razor covetously when the phone rings. I run back into the bedroom to grab it before Daniel can answer. What the hey--everyone from the mountain knows I'm here being--ahem--watched. And if it's someone else...well, they might think Daniel finally got a life. Or at least got laid.

"Daniel?"

"Carter!" I bellow. Please, Carter--give me some good news.

"Colonel? How are you?"

"I just washed my hair and I can't do a thing with it," I complain. Carter's a chick. Maybe she'll be more sympathetic.

"Yeah. Right," Carter mutters. "Listen, sir. ETA on the machine is about two hours. And I'd like to get you and Hathor switched back as soon as possible."

"You would?" I snort. "Guess how I feel."

"Exactly, sir. So if you and Daniel would come to the base ASAP, I've commandeered a couple of enlisted men to help us with the switch."

"Commandeered?"

"Don't ask," Carter says dryly.

"Fine--but seriously, Carter. What do I do with the hair?"

"Have you considered a hat, sir?"

* * *

I have never been so happy to have gray hair and bad knees. At least they're mine. And fully endowed with a Y chromosome.

Hathor, along with Machello's machine, is on the way to Area 51. Personally, I won't be surprised if she's not there long. Assuming she ever arrives in the first place. I don't know if she'll pull some snaky trick and escape, or if members of the shadow government will intercept her. Either way I'm guessing we haven't seen the last of the gutter goddess.

I saunter into my favorite little bar and grill just down the street from Daniel's favorite little book store. The book store where Daniel is currently happily off in his own little world. It's not that I don't like book stores. I just can't spend an entire afternoon in one. Fortunately, Daniel doesn't mind if I relax my way as long as I don't interfere in his relaxing.

I claim a booth, order a coffee, and slouch back in the seat to check out the game on the set over the bar. I'm just getting good and relaxed when my view is blocked by an all too familiar shape. And you know what they say about familiarity.

"Oh...Maybourne," I groan.

"Hey, Jack," Harry says easily as he takes a seat across from me. 

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right here, right now."

"Because you don't have a gun with you," Harry tosses back breezily as he picks up a menu. An eager waitress bustles right over, her boobs bouncing in time with the gum-smacking lips. Hey, honey, take it from me--a bra would help.

"Can I get you boys something?"

"I'm good," I grumble.

"I'll have a draw," Harry says with a greasy smile. "Sure you don't want a Duck Fuck, Jack?"

Seconds later, Harry's pointedly dabbing at the coffee I just spewed all over him. 

"It's a cocktail, Jack."

"Shouldn't that be **duck** -tail?" I snap.

"Well, in your case...."

"What do you want, Harry?"

"Just a little help, Jack. Nothing you can't handle."

Son of a bitch. What really sucks is I can't just blow him off. Maybourne has come through for us...on occasion. In his own unique, sleazy way. I'll be damned if I'm going to make it easy, though.

"On the off chance I haven't said this often enough for it to penetrate your thick skull--I think you're slime. Why on earth would I help you?"

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" Harry says snidely. Hardee har har. "No, I didn't think so," he concedes. "Okay, cards on the table. I need something. You're going to arrange it for me."

"Because?"

"Because I know things, Jack. Things you don't want anyone else to know." 

Oh, no. We are **not** playing that game.

"Forget it," I say abruptly. "I will not be blackmailed by you."

"Do you really want the Joint Chiefs to know that you've been doing your civilian consultant?" Harry asks lazily.

"Fuck you, Maybourne."

"I'm flattered, Jack, but not interested," Maybourne says coolly as he sips his beer. "I don't think Dr. Jackson would be too happy about that arrangement either. He's not much for playing the field, is he?"

"First--leave Daniel out of this. Second--do whatever the hell you want. I'll be retiring soon anyway."

"Leaving with Hammond?" Harry asks, his nonchalant tone betrayed by the gleam of interest in his eyes. I stay silent and glare at him. 

"Fine," he says dismissively. "But you know there's no way to leave Jackson out of it. The two of you are, shall we say, joined now," he adds making a suggestive gesture.

"Maybourne, I'm not telling you again," I say leaning forward across the table to make sure Harry and only Harry hears me. "You mess with Daniel and I will make you pay." 

Maybourne just smirks. 

"And we both know what I'm capable of," I warn. The smirk falters a bit because Harry does know just exactly what I'm capable of.

"Just explain one thing to me," Harry says, regaining his composure. "Why Jackson? The man aggravates you into a near coronary on a daily basis, questions everything you do...."

"Only when I'm not smart enough to question myself," I interject. Maybourne just shrugs it off.

"Still--you can't enjoy having the good doctor constantly telling you what an amoral, unethical SOB you are." 

The thing is--although I suspect there have been moments of frustration when Daniel has thought along those lines--Daniel has never said or even implied that he thinks I'm a bad person. Quite the contrary. He sometimes thinks I **act** like a bad person, but he's convinced that I'm a genuinely good guy. Where he got that idea I have no clue.

"Anyway," Harry says, bringing us back to the point. "Give me what I want and Jackson won't be an issue." 

I gesture curtly for him to continue. 

"I'm getting out, Jack. The stakes are too high these days and, well, I've got enough money. I want to disappear somewhere, maybe run a little business, and live quietly for a whole lot of years." 

"Right," I snort. 

"I'm serious, Jack."

"You expect me to believe that?" I say derisively. "You can't leave. You live for this stuff."

"Used to," Harry says. "But there are new factions playing the game and they have no sense of honor."

"Like you would know the meaning of the word," I snap. "And I still don't know what all of this has to do with me."

"I need you to use some of your connections to get the government boys off my case," Harry admits. "I can take care of the bad guys myself, but I don't want some over zealous G-man coming after me."

"No."

"No?" Harry echoes in disbelief.

"No. You made your bed and you're just gonna have to lay in it."

"And what about the bed partner you're laying?" Harry challenges. "Thought you wanted to protect Jackson."

"Protect me from what?" 

Daniel's cold voice takes both of us by surprise. Damn, he can be a sneaky son of a gun. He slides into the booth next to me, never taking his eyes from Maybourne. Harry stares at Daniel for a minute, but seems to realize he's pushed as far as he can push.

"Nothing, Daniel," I say calmly. Daniel shoots me an angry look. "Nothing more momentous than the displeasure of Harry's company." 

I look steadily at Daniel, willing him to read my mind again. Daniel's lips tighten but he doesn't pursue it any farther.

"Now if you'll excuse us, Maybourne. We've got plans."

"I'll bet," Harry says. The man can make anything sound dirty.

"Dinner," Daniel explains curtly.

"Ah," Maybourne purrs. "Then Jack will be doing a duck."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Daniel says indignantly. I feel him freeze next to me as he realizes what he just said. Daniel drops his head into his hands with a groan.

"Always a pleasure, Dr. Jackson," Maybourne says with a grin as he gets up from the table.

"For you maybe," Daniel mutters.

"Jack," Maybourne says with a nod.

"Bite me," I say with a smile.

"I believe that's Dr. Jackson's job," Harry calls as he saunters off. 

Asshole always has to have the last word.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Daniel demands the minute we're through my front door. 

Am I surprised Daniel didn't just let this drop? No. Am I surprised he waited until we got home? Actually--yes, I am. Daniel is not known for his patience.

"Maybourne says he's retiring."

"Retiring?" Daniel repeats with a perplexed expression. "How does a person retire from being a convicted felon?"

"Beats me. But if there's a way, Maybourne will find it."

"What does he want from you?"

"A favor."

"What's he holding over your head?" Daniel persists.

"Nothing. He's got nothing on me."

"Me," Daniel says firmly. "He's blackmailing you about me."

"He can't, Daniel."

"Sounds to me like he can."

"He can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm retiring, too."

Daniel stops dead in his tracks, a stunned expression on his face. I just keep going. I know damn well Daniel will follow me, full of questions, as soon as he gets over the shock. Which ought to be right about....

"Since when?" Daniel asks, hurrying to catch up to me in the bedroom.

"Since Hammond told me he's getting ready to retire."

"And you were going to tell me this when?"

"Well, I was going to tell you a couple of days ago but I kind of got sidetracked by a little gender problem." I still find myself grabbing my crotch every five minutes like Michael freakin Jackson just to reassure myself that all the important bits are present and accounted for. 

"I think it's probably best if I go when Hammond does. I've pretty well topped out, career wise, and it might be kinder to let the new C.O. take over without me in his face."

"Your knees," Daniel says absently, his brain still busy processing the news.

"That, too," I admit. I finish shucking the last of my clothes and turn down the bed. I fluff the pillow under my head and settle back to watch Daniel try to get undressed and process my imminent change of life at the same time. Daniel **can** walk and chew gum at the same time...just. But get his brain busy and he's worthless for anything else.

"Hammond's trying to get everyone settled first. He's going to give Carter a team of her own. Teal'c--if he wants to stay that's great. If not, George will make sure he goes back to the Jaffa with his blessing and all the help he can muster."

"That's...that's good," Daniel says, still lost in concentration. "What about me?"

"You? You can pretty much write your own ticket," I tell him. "Hammond wants you on SG-1 but he'll take you pretty much any way he can get you. Kind of like me," I hint.

"So it's up to me?" Daniel asks. "I can choose?"

"Yep."

"Okay. Um...you need anything from...." Daniel gestures toward the bathroom.

"Nope."

Daniel walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. Well. That was... strangely non-dramatic. I know how Daniel's brain works. He has to stir everything around in his head for a while, but some kind of reaction would've been nice. I lie on the bed, my hands under my head, and stew for several minutes. More than several minutes. Daniel finally emerges, naked--which is good, and thoughtful--which is starting to annoy me.

"You're pissed," Daniel says looking at me.

"No, I'm not."

"You are," Daniel says firmly as he climbs into the bed. "You're pissed because I didn't immediately say 'oh, Jack--I'll quit my job and follow you wherever you go'."

"No. Well, not much." I turn slightly so I can look at him. "I know you can't make a big decision just like that. It's just that my ego has taken a beating lately."

"Your ego is extremely healthy," Daniel says. "And the idea is very appealing but I can't rush into a decision that's going to affect both of us."

"You do it all the time." Well--he does.

"You've already had time to think about this. To think about what you're going to do, when and where you're going to do it. Of course, you didn't bother sharing this with me," he says, staring at me through narrowed eyes. "But you must have been thinking about it a lot lately."

"You'd be surprised at how little I had to think about it," I admit.

"No, actually, I'm rarely surprised at how little you think about things," Daniel says. "But that's not the way I work. I **have** to think about all the options."

"Since when?" I ask.

"Could we not talk about this now?" Daniel asks. He's busily reacquainting himself with my body. I think he's still a little freaked about the Hathor thing. Or maybe he's just horny.

"So do we still have to encourage your 'ego'?" Daniel asks as he leans down to check out my 'ego'. My cock jumps right up and smacks him in the nose. "Apparently not."

"A little positive reinforcement never hurt," I say to coax him on. Not that Daniel needs much coaxing. Daniel has been willing... one might say downright eager to assist me in welcoming my cock back. I've certainly been doing my best to treat it well. Just to let it know how much I appreciate it and missed it. Boy, did I miss it. 

"You wouldn't just be making excuses to get as much sex as possible?" Daniel asks dryly.

"Would I do tha...oh yeah do **that** again!" 

No one sucks like Daniel. No one. The boy could put a Hoover to shame. I swear--one of these days he's liable to suck a vital organ right out through my dick. 

But, oh, what a way to go.

Mere minutes later, I'm a boneless puddle of flesh. Completely incapable of movement. I think he finally did it. Sucked a little too hard and my spinal cord is now history. Daniel crawls up my body and proceeds to remove the few remaining molecules of air from my lungs. Then he creeps up further until he's straddling my shoulders. He grabs the headboard and nudges my lips with his cock.

"Hey! Give a guy a chance to recover," I complain.

"Your mouth has obviously recovered," he shoots back. "That's all you need, old man."

Old man? **Old** man? I'll show him "old" man. With a groan I get my arms working again and grab that firm young ass before slurping his cock in like a spaghetti noodle. I may not have the suction capacity that Daniel has but I have one trick he doesn't. And I've been practicing. 

I deep throat him...and hum. Every muscle in Daniel's body goes rigid and he's reduced to making little strangled noises in the back of his throat. Daniel's damn near in tears as I work my throat around him. His cock jerks with each wave of release before he sags helplessly. Daniel's grip on the headboard is the only thing keeping him from sitting down right on my face.

"Not so bad for an old man, eh?" I say smugly.

"Mmppff," Daniel grunts as he flops face down beside me. I roll to my side and rub lightly on his back.

"Daniel?"

He turns his head far enough to look at me with one eye.

"Promise me you won't dump me for some younger, prettier, more virile colonel after I retire."

"There aren't any prettier colonels than you at the SGC," Daniel says with a snort.

"Or more virile."

"Well, now that I wouldn't know about. Not without checking out their potency in person."

"No! No personal personnel potency checks for you," I insist.

"Well, then," Daniel says as he snakes his hand over and give my sluggish cock a gentle squeeze. "Guess you and this duck divining rod of yours had better be putting all your new leisure time to good use. Build up your stamina. Widen your repertoire. Work on keeping me happy in the sack."

Hot damn. Retirement's looking better every minute.

* * *

Duck Fuck Cocktail(what?--you think I make this stuff up?)

Fill a large shot glass (1 ½ to 2 oz) 80% with Tanqueray gin. Fill another 15% with Stoli or Absolut vodka. Fill to the rim with cheap "Ice" beer. (Best results with Busch Ice).


End file.
